


Delicate

by Weatherbug02



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Episode VIII: The Last Jedi - Fandom, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Cuddling, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Force Bond, Force Sex (Star Wars), Kissing, Light Angst, Post-Canon, Post-TLJ, Sleeping Together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-15
Updated: 2017-12-15
Packaged: 2019-02-14 23:54:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13018881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Weatherbug02/pseuds/Weatherbug02
Summary: The first time it happened, she thought it was a dream.[Or, in which Rey and Kylo wake up next to each other every night via force bond]Also available inрусский





	Delicate

The first time it happened, she thought it was a dream.

 

She thought it was the universe taunting her, mocking her for her failure to bring him back to the Light. That’s what it felt like when she woke up with him next to her, only two feet separating their bodies. Convinced it was a dream, she went back to sleep. When she awoke, he was gone, and she brushed it off as she saw it: A dream.

 

*

 

The second time it happened, it was a lot worse.

 

She woke up again with his head pressed into her neck. He was warm, and she could feel his breath against her skin. A dream? She had tried to convince herself it was, but… how did he feel so real?

 

She didn’t move for several minutes, frozen still as he continued to sleep. He hadn’t shown any indication of waking up, unmoving except for his steady breathing. She knew he couldn’t be there with her, that was for sure. Even if he had gotten past so much security, it wasn’t realistic to think he would come back just to sleep with her. No, it was something else.

 

_Force bond._

 

It made sense. He would just show up sometimes, times that she really didn’t want him. It seemed to happen less and less after she left him, her anger with him at its peak, but there was no avoidance of him. Eventually, they’d just ignore each other until the bond allowed them to leave, but sometimes it wouldn’t be for hours. That must be what was happening. She knows the Force wants them together, and she supposed it would do anything to get them that way.

 

She didn’t wake him, but she didn’t push him away. There was no point to, and, besides, she was always cold anyway.

 

*

 

The third time it happened, he was awake.

 

He was directly across from her, just staring. Her heart sped up at the sight of him like it did the previous nights. He was shirtless again, only clad in a loose pair of pants and blankets twisted around his legs.

 

He didn’t speak, instead reaching out a hand toward her and pressing warm fingertips gingerly to her cheek. She closed her eyes.

 

*

The fourth time it happened, they spoke.

 

It was in hushed whispers and gentle murmurs. They didn’t question why this was happening—they knew why. Instead, they spoke of each other. They answered inane questions, sometimes deep ones, but they didn’t stop talking even as the sun rose.

 

“Come back tomorrow,” she said. She wasn’t sure why.

 

“I will.”

 

*

 

The fifth time it happened, they stopped fighting it.

 

She didn’t question waking up to him again, even if he was somewhere across the galaxy. When their eyes met again that night, he pressed a hand to her waist, a silent offer. She debated for a moment before pressing her back to his chest and let him drape an arm over her. He pressed his face into her hair and whispered something she couldn’t quite make out.

 

*

 

The sixth time it happened, it was peaceful.

 

She didn’t wake up until she felt him stirring, and even then she kept her eyes closed. He pressed a hand to her cheek, and her heart sped up, even as she willed it to stop.

 

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said. She wasn’t sure if he knew she was listening.

 

*

 

The seventh time it happened, he was in pain.

 

She woke up to whispers, but they weren’t spoken to her. He was asleep, and he clutched her almost painfully to his chest. She tried pulling away, but he didn’t let go. He was whispering something, in a language she didn’t know, eyebrows furrowed. He was dreaming, it was easy enough to tell, but it wasn’t a good one.

 

“Please.” A word she could recognize.

 

She closed her eyes and tried to get some sleep, not unbothered by the way he gripped her.

 

*

 

The eighth time it happened, she was in pain.

 

She was there again, in that throne room with Snoke’s eye glaring down upon her, and behind her was _him_. The memories of moments past with him in the elevator, the way he’d looked at her, flooded her mind. She could forgive him someday for bringing her to that monster. Or maybe she already had, she didn’t know.

 

Snoke made her skin crawl, and she hated him. She hated who he was, what he stood for, what he’d done. He hated his hold on _him,_ especially. She couldn’t stand it when it seemed she couldn’t fight as Snoke brought the lightsaber down.

 

And then she woke, and _he_ was there, leaning over her.

 

“Are you okay?”

 

Tears were trailing down her cheeks already. “No.”

 

He nodded, and she was relieved when he didn’t ask for more.

 

*

 

The ninth time it happened, they didn’t sleep.

 

They laid together all night, fingers laced together, and talked. He spoke of his work, things he never should share with her. She spoke of the Resistance, her friends, and tried not to notice when he tensed at the mention of his mother.

 

“Do you care for me?” he asked later, their chests pressed together. The intimacy of the touch almost made her blush.

 

She didn’t answer right away, instead pressing her lips to the corner of his mouth. “Of course I do,” she said at last.

 

He smiled sleepily.

 

*

 

The tenth time it happened, it was a lot less innocent.

 

She didn’t know what started it exactly, but she did remember a hurried kiss and a whisper of a promise. Somehow sleeping together had morphed into another definition of the word. She didn’t mind as much as she thought she would when her clothes were gone and her body fell victim to the chill.

 

He was far gentler than she expected he’d be. He was all raw passion and sharp edges while he was Supreme Leader. Somehow she figured that persona would seep in when they were together, but it never did. When he made love to her, his touch was soft and his voice was just above a whisper.

 

He spoke of things—forbidden things. Promises he’d never get to keep, truths she could never have believed. None of it felt real, but then again, nothing mattered anyway.

 

Afterward, they lied together, in more ways than one.

 

“We’ll find a way to be together,” he said.

 

 _He was always an optimist_. “We will.”

 

*

 

The eleventh time it happened, they fell apart.

 

“Is this real?” she asked as he laid next to her. They were both naked, blankets wrapped around their bodies.

 

“Do you want it to be?”

 

“Of course I do, but… I can’t go on every day pretending and then coming back to let you fuck me. That’s not how it works.”

 

“If you didn't want me you should've said something.”

 

“I wish I had.”

 

*

 

The twelfth time it happened, no one slept or spoke.

 

She tossed and turned all night, knowing that the man next to her felt the same as she did. He was enamored with her the same way she was with him, but she couldn't allow herself to love him. She couldn't allow herself to think about loving him.

 

There was no room for love in war.

 

*

 

The thirteenth time it happened, he spoke.

 

“I’m not apologizing,” he said, lying further apart than he ever had. It felt unnatural for her. “I know I have plenty to apologize for, but apologies never fix anything. Actions do.” He let out a shaky breath. “Please tell me what to do. I never meant to make it seem you were a simple fuck for me because you’re not. I don't know how to do anything. If I did something, if I made you uncomfortable, just tell me. Please.”

 

Tears welled in her eyes, but she couldn't bring herself to answer. Instead, she closed her eyes and pressed her palm against his chest.

 

For now, it was enough.

 

*

 

The fourteenth time it happened, she spoke.

 

“I'm not mad at you.” She was sitting up, her hands clasped together on her lap. “I-I don't know how to deal with relationships either. You're the first real relationship I've ever had, and it… it scares me. Nothing ever lasts for me, and every morning when I wake up and you're gone, I'm afraid it's going to be the last time.”

 

His lip was quivering when she met his eyes. “It won't be.”

 

That was good enough for her.

 

*

 

The fifteenth time it happened, she felt nothing but bliss.

 

They were naked, sheets tangled between their legs. He was less gentle this time, pinning her hands above her head and biting down on her shoulder, leaving a mark she hoped would be there in the morning.

 

She came quickly, digging her fingernails into the skin of his back. He followed her, waiting as he always did for her to finish. When he was done, he rolled off her and tuck her into the crook of his arm.

 

“I'm in love with you,” he said.

 

She squeezed his hand. “Me too.”

 

*

 

The twentieth time it happened, she wanted more.

 

They had a routine: Talking, sex, cuddling, sleeping.

 

It was an unspoken agreement between them, but they didn’t always follow it. Like tonight, where they skipped the talking part and went right into step two of the routine. But then that allowed a bit more intimate conversation as he held her close and let her trace his scars.

 

“I want to do this for real,” she mumbled, pressing a kiss to his shoulder.

 

He tensed beneath her. She could tell he already hated this conversation.“Is this not real to you?”

 

“It is, but every time I wake up and you’re not here. I want… I want you to stay. I want to wake up next to you and not worry about when you disappear. I want you to stay. I want you.”

 

He squeezed her shoulders. “Someday. Someday we can.”

 

*

 

They weren’t sure when it happened, no one did.

 

All she knew was that one day, it wasn’t their force bond allowing him into her bed each night, and it wasn’t her dreaming. She was able to watch him as he removed his clothes each night and lie next to her, and she woke up next to him every single morning without having to worry about him disappearing.

 

They spent their nights entangled with each other and spent their morning with domestic luxuries and gentle kisses. People knew and people cared, but they didn’t.

 

They woke up just after sunrise with chests pressed together and legs entwined.

 

“Rey,” he said, meaning something else entirely.

 

“Ben.” _I love you._

**Author's Note:**

> So  
> The Last Jedi is a thing  
> Wild
> 
> Follow my Tumblr: https://reyloday.tumblr.com


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